


Newer Model

by craterdweller



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternative Perspective, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humor, POV Inanimate Object, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 01:03:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14344713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craterdweller/pseuds/craterdweller
Summary: Having recently moved to Nevada, Sam has a new motorcycle parked in her garage. POV from Sam's classic motorcycle.





	Newer Model

The door separating the house from the attached garage opened, allowing some of the colder air in. My owner, Samantha Carter, dressed in jeans and an old t-shirt stopped off at the workbench to grab her tools. Noticing the clean rags and buffing compound, I eagerly anticipated my long overdue rubdown. It had been over a week and sand had begun to collect in some rather uncomfortable places. She smiled at me before turning her back and giving her full attention to The Other. The Interloper.

Where I was all classic lines and vintage parts, my new neighbor boasted the latest composites and was engineered for speed. My owner paid meticulous attention to every centimeter. Centimeter, not inch. The blasted thing even used metrics. Fine, not like I’d want to share my good old 3/16 wrench. I bet it needs a fancy computer for a tune-up. How pretentious.

She stands, finally, and swings her leg over, straddling the black leather saddle seat. A light touch and it starts with barely a rumble. Much quieter than my own. She gives the engine a slight rev, listening intently before allowing it to settle into a comfortable idle, her ungloved hand absently stroking the yellow and white fiberglass. At least she’s not taking it out. A small comfort, as I haven’t been out either.

She turns the beast off and gives me a gentle pat before disappearing back into the house. She switches off the overhead light, leaving us alone in the dark.

❖

The door banged open just as a tiny sliver of morning sunlight danced through the east window. Samantha bounded past the Interloper with eyes only for me. She wore her riding leathers and carried her helmet under her left arm. She frowned as she noticed tiny bits of sand clinging to my airfoil. “Sorry, baby. Let me get that for you.” She grabbed a clean rag and gave me a quick wipe down. I was a little disappointed she hadn’t taken the care she had shown my neighbor last night, but it looked as if I was at least getting out of this infernal garage.

The door banged open a second time. A pair of long legs encased in well-fitting jeans stopped alongside us. A strong, masculine hand, rapped on my frame. “Think the old boy can keep up?”

What?! Come a little closer buddy and say that again! I waited for my owner to vigorously defend me, but instead, the strangest sound emerged from her mouth. Did she just giggle before checking out his six when he bent over to throw open the garage door? Convinced I was trapped in some bizarre alternate reality, I half-expected to see three suns rather than the Nevada highway stretching through the desert landscape.

With a well-practiced kickstart, Sam set us off in a shot. I heard the man chuckling as he rolled his beast into the driveway and secured the garage door before giving chase.

❖

Oh, the exhilaration! The yellow and white beast was gaining. Twice before they had almost caught us, but I wasn’t an ordinary old bike. Sam’s improvements, like her extra secret fuel mixture, left many a rider in the dust. But this rider was different. He didn’t chafe at the challenge. He welcomed it.

Sam slowed so the man could pull up alongside. She motioned towards the sign for a scenic overlook. With a nod of his yellow and white helmet, he gave a two finger salute and sped ahead. How rude! I expected outrage followed by a bit of turbo boost. Instead, we followed almost leisurely, like a cat stalking its prey.

Dropping my kickstand, Sam parked me alongside the beast. Admittedly, both the shade and the rest were appreciated as I was still unaccustomed to this strange Nevada climate.

The pair of jean-clad legs approached and placed Sam’s helmet on my seat.

“I win,” she said breathlessly.

“How do you figure?” He leaned closer.

Hey, personal space, buddy. Sam was going to push him away. I was sure of it.

“I caught you, didn’t I?” She tugged his jacket pulling him closer. He stopped millimeters from her lips.

“D’oh.”

Oh. OH! As realization dawned, I eyed my new neighbor anew. As Sam once said, the heart never grows old.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts:  
> Trope Bingo- Perspective Flip  
> GYWO - Pretentious  
> GenPrompt Bingo - Fluff


End file.
